Urtica membranacea
by Raven St. Schuyler
Summary: On letting go.


Disclaimer: I don't own Final Fantasy 7

Disclaimer: I don't own Final Fantasy 7.

When you're stung by a nettle, there are several ways ease the irritation. Some say applying mud to the affected area and brushing the mud off when it's dry will take care of it. Others will tell you all you have to do is wash it with soap and water. Moistening the rash with saliva is a quick solution when you don't have much else. I hear that even rubbing the underside of a fern leaf would do the trick because of the fern leaf's spore pods. My mother had always taught me that if I ever got stung by a nettle, I should come home and rub a water and baking soda paste on my pale, distressed skin.

If only every hit I took was like that of a nettle inflammation.

Every emotional blow I took was followed by a period of sizzling silence, where everything I had experienced in the past boiled up to the surface, making the pain even more unbearable. Every time I was hurt, it only reminded me of the millions of times I'd been hurt before, and how it shouldn't hurt after a while. How I would…soon…learn to channel the pain, and make it evaporate, let it flow through thick blood to my feet, where it would eventually recede into the ground, never to be seen or felt again.

Dying is the closest you ever get to reaching ultimate peace. I don't think it, real peace I mean, exists. At least, not in this world. Aeris believed that you found peace and a new beginning when you reached the Promise Land. I forgot to ask her if she thought I'd get in. I probably wouldn't, whether she told me "yes" because she sincerely thought so, or because she just couldn't bring herself to say no. She would never say no. She was too good, too kind. Me, I tried too hard. Yuffie told me I really was a nice and caring person, but for some reason, I could never hold a candle to the supreme compassion detained by Aeris Gainsborough. I was a cold sinner, and a faker along with that. And because of that, I never found peace.

I had been crushed, deeply. It was like he had reached down my throat to rip out my heart. But I couldn't hate him for it. What was I? I was a nuisance, I was a setback. I was the backbone of the team, some said. I was his friend. "Just friends." And can you believe that he didn't even have the decency or courage to answer me? It's not like it had been that simple for me either. I had told him straight out how I felt, and he just sat there.

"Well, Tifa…"

Ha! What a great way to start an unfinished rejection. It's not like he really _did have_ to say anything. I could tell by the expression on his face and the way that he fidgeted with his hands that it was a no. Not that I harbored any resentment, by any means (or still do). There was no time for anyone but everyone. There couldn't be one significant other in his life. Not Aeris, and definitely not me. Although I couldn't hate that sickening fact, I couldn't help that it hurt worse than any wound ever etched in my body. I died that day. He killed me. Unintentionally, of course, but I was alone and hurting nonetheless.

So I did the only thing that was left to do. I let go. It's obvious I didn't want to, but I had to. There was no sense for me to hold on to something that so clearly wasn't there. I had to learn to stop the pain, and start living. Life wasn't going to get any better on its own. I finally took the initiative.

I started with the small things. Pictures of _him_ were replaced by pictures of Marlene and Denzel at the park, or Yuffie and me at the coast. Group pictures were substituted with developed photos from my amateur-photography-hobby's collection. And the famous Avalanche photo was supplanted by a picture of a setting sun. Grayscale, to make it more suitable for its mood. I would no longer leave anything around that would remind me of him. In some extreme circumstances, I didn't even use his name. I just referred to him as "some guy I know" when he came up in conversation.

Then I had to deal with the big things. I learned to occupy my time with recreational, financial, or house-hold manners, as an attempt to keep my mind from wandering to him. It still did, it was out of my control. It came very naturally, almost like breathing. The dreams of him I couldn't help at all. I had the same dream of him and me virtually every night, which consisted of us sitting in the middle of nowhere, as I watch him walk off. The I cry. I later learned in the "Interpret Your Dreams Now!" book that crying in your dreams is just your mind trying to reach emotional balance, as a form of recovery from some recent stressful or depressing incident.

I found myself in the middle of sea of situations, where I had two choices, and two paths to choose from. I could stop now, and redo everything I had undone, and live in the past. Life is not that simple. I did what I had to do.

Then, I took the last step, and cut off all contact from him.

I rarely saw anyone anymore, except Yuffie. Over the past year, she and I had become thick as thieves. Everyone else…they had gone their own ways. Barret and Vincent would stop by on occasion to say hi, or to take the kids out somewhere for the weekend. The visits were brief, with a drink here and there, a "how ya' doin,'" sometimes a "what's Spike-O up to anyway?" That's usually when I told them I was really busy and had to prepare for the evening rush. I knew that they could see right through what I was doing, but it was a good way to avoid the conversation that I really didn't want to have, especially not with someone like Barret. Yuffie knew, and I would periodically cry on her shoulder, but Barret, Vincent, Cid, they were all people who I could _not_ talk to about this. So they respected my space, let me heal on my own time, and could take a hint, usually grumbling something about having to "check the engine" as they headed out the door.

It still hurts, yes, but I learned to forget about him. Actually, I never really thought about him unless someone wanted to talk about him. I haven't talked to him in five years. I never saw him after that night. God only knows what he's up to.

"So, do you want to do something this evening, you know, something special." I scoffed as Yuffie raised her eyebrows and nudged me with her elbow. The two of us had decided to take a walk. I guess we had zoned out for quite a while, because our surroundings were very unfamiliar.

"Yeah, didn't ya' hear? I got a job at that new discount _BJ_ store," I said, my voice dripping with apathy.

"God, you really have changed," she said, with an expression on her face, a cross between looking appalled and shocked. I laughed.

Yuffie began to suggest all the different things we could do, and the possible clubs we could go to this weekend with potential hook-ups and possible boyfriends.

"Aren't you a little young for that kind of stuff," I asked with a teasing tone in my voice.

Something brushed up against my leg.

"Of course not! Have you not noticed how I've changed lately? I've become more mature. Physically, mentally, socially, emotionally, and intellectually." She smiled. I raised my eyebrow.

Then, the sting came. My bare leg was still pressed up against what I had touched just a few seconds ago. I looked down.

It was a nettle.


End file.
